Guess Who I Pulled Last Night? Read Free

burst into tears, screaming at the top of his lungs.  He didn’t
stop until Amanda picked him up and took him into the kitchen where he couldn’t
see Grant.
    “Sorry mate,” sighed Dave.  “He must be tired.”
    “Never mind, lunch is almost ready, shall we sit down?”
twittered Kathleen, her neck growing more crimson by the second.
    “Mum, Grant has only just got here, give him chance.” 
Charlotte scowled at her mother, silently warning her to calm down.  She
then turned to Grant, who was rubbing his head where a red mark had
appeared.  “Are you okay?” she asked.
    “Hmm fine,” he muttered, nodding his head and pushing
Charlotte’s hand away.  “No real damage.”
    There was then some chitchat for ten minutes, until the
lounge door slowly opened and a grey looking Tom entered, nodding solemnly at
everyone.
    “Okay,” he said, through clenched teeth.  “Sorry I’m
late.”  He sat down next to Dave on the sofa, sighing at the effort that
it had taken to make it down the stairs.
    “Tom is unfortunately feeling a little hung over,” Charlotte
explained to Grant.  “He’s not normally so quiet and ghost like.”
    “Oh dear.” Grant shook his head.  “I don’t get it
myself, why poison your body and make yourself feel like rubbish, just for a
few hours of fun?” 
    Tom slowly lifted his head, which he had been resting on
Dave’s shoulder.  “Because, life should be all about having fun, and at
the time I didn’t think of the consequences.  I’m guessing that you are
Grant?”
    “Tom, if you don’t feel well then go back to bed.” 
Kathleen sensed that Tom may just be about to give Grant a piece of his mind,
and wanted to avert a scene.
    “I’m fine,” he said, turning back to Grant.
    “Well that’s good, you can come and help me in the kitchen
then.”  Kathleen glared at him, moving her eyes in the direction of the
kitchen.  “Now would be good.”
    Tom got the message and remembered he was supposed to be on
his best behaviour.  “Okay, just be gentle with me.”  With great
effort he heaved himself off the sofa and followed his mother into the kitchen.
Everyone else gave a sigh of relief; Tom was known for not suffering hangovers
well.
    Ten minutes later, they were all sitting down to eat lunch.
Archie had stopped crying at the sight of Grant and was sitting in his
highchair, opposite the special guest, while Tom, looking pale and
uninteresting, was on Grant’s left hand side. 
    During lunch everyone tried to make conversation with Grant
but generally, as Charlotte had on their first date, they listened to what he
had to say.  Tom, who was extremely bored and unable to eat, started
pulling faces at Archie who, equally bored, pulled them back.  When Tom
raised the bar with the faces he was pulling, Archie had no ammunition left in
his armament, and so had no alternative but to throw his uneaten lunch at
Tom.  As the blue plastic plate flew through the air, Tom knew he had to
save himself.  Like Bruce Willis, as John McClane in Die Hard, he dived to
his right, and grabbing hold of Grant he pulled him into the line of
fire.  With a splat, the plate landed on the reddened spot on a bewildered
Grant’s head.  It slowly slithered down, until it landed, with a plop, on
his lap.
    “Shit,” he cried, standing up so quickly that he almost
toppled the table over.  “What the…”
    “Archie,” cried Tom through his giggles.  “That’s
really naughty, what did you do that for?”  He bit his clenched fist to
stifle the laughter that was bubbling in his chest.
    “Grant are you okay?” Charlotte moved over to him, wiping
mashed potato and carrots from his forehead.
    “My carpet,” cried Kathleen, as more food, mixed with gravy,
fell from Grant’s groin to the floor.
    “Archie, say sorry to Grant, that’s really naughty.” 
Amanda scolded her son, while also hiding a smile; she didn’t know why, but she
had also taken an instant dislike to